


The Journalist: Hungover in Love

by lettalady



Series: The Journalist [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2994443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettalady/pseuds/lettalady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to The Journalist. We catch a glimpse at the backstory, close to the first meeting between our journalist and Tom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Journalist: Hungover in Love

Luke raps his knuckles on the wooden door again, this time with a little more force. Tom isn’t answering, but perhaps with enough persistence he won’t have to resort to using his key to gain admittance to the actor’s home. Tom had gone out last night – and as the night wore on the texts he received from the actor had made progressively less sense. It was babble about love and old souls, timing, and of fate thumbing her nose at him.

Saying that it was mostly intelligible was being nice… hence this mid-morning check in. With still no answer after another minute of knocking Luke shakes his head and uses his key to unlock the front door. In answer to his prolonged knocking a groan comes from the bedroom. Luke starts the process of breakfast, most importantly: caffeine, before investigating further.  

“Morning?” He peeks in the door to find that Tom is still in bed – unusual, even for an off day or late night.

Tom’s reply is a muttered stream of _almost_ understandable words spoken mostly into his bedsheets, “…nnrrrgh mrrrning Lunnnnrg.” Tom stayed out drinking, evidently paying for it now. The smell of the bar lingers in the air, hopefully wafting from the few discarded articles of clothing and not the man himself – the favorite leather jacket slung off and laying in a pile at the foot of the bed.

Luke doesn’t bother lowering his voice, taking the tough love approach. “Try that again. This time in English.”

Tom is clearly annoyed and plays the part of petulant child when he groans and rolls onto his back. He takes a second to make a few faces before smacking his lips, lifting a hand to ruffle through his curls while softly greeting his friend, “Morning, Luke.”

“Morning.” Luke nods. It’s a start - a satisfactory greeting that will do until Tom pulls himself together. The mid-morning sun is trying its best to sneak in through the pulled shades. Luke doesn’t move to turn on the light, relying on light pollution from the lights from the main room to see Tom. “Enjoyed yourself last night I see.”

Tom takes this as an opportunity to shut his eyes again. “Yes. Unnng. Tired. And headache. Need…. sleeeep.”

“This, just because a woman that sparks your interest turns you down?” It couldn’t be as simple as that. Tom has been shot down before… but the odd texts the night before didn’t give him much to go on. Something about professions and judgments? Earlier in the day he’d been prattling on about an interview…

“Yes.” Tom sounds utterly defeated.

Luke scoffs, almost laughing at the way Tom is reacting to being shot down. “Isn’t it easier to just call her? Ask again?”

“No.”

“No?”

Tom overdramatically sits up, groans, and then hunches forward. The ill effects of his night spent drinking at the bar are in full swing. “She wants nothing to do with me, with the business. Says actors are stuck up, superficial creatures.”

“She said that?” 

Another unhappy noise rumbles around in Tom’s throat. “Well – not explicitly. But it's there in every look she gives me. She's made a point of maintaining her distance.”

Luke mulls over this information. Could it be that Tom has allowed himself to become smitten with a member of the media? This behavior, coupled with the hints from the texts the night before… it appears that way. “Hmmm. Interesting opinion to have and work for an entertainment magazine.”

Tom winces as he responds. He’s not enjoying the volume of the conversation. “She freelances, too.”

“And this woman’s – this _journalist’s_ – opinion matters so much to you that you would then go out and drink yourself into such a condition…”

Tom doesn’t need to speak to respond. His look says it all: _Obviously._

“And this," Luke waves his hand to indicate Tom's bedraggled appearance, "disproves her _how_ , exactly?”

A scowl is all he’s given in reply. All this because he's discovered someone that is capable of withstanding _The Hiddleston Effect_. Tom’ll feel better after getting some caffeine and nutrients in his body to combat the alcohol.

Luke shakes his head. “Come on. Up. You’ll feel better after a shower and something to eat.”

Tom shifts a bit, stalling getting out of bed. Rather than stand there and supervise Luke heads back towards the kitchen to retrieve the much needed cup containing caffeine.  Steaming liquid ready, he heads back to the bedroom to find that Tom has flopped back over on the bed, determined to burrow back into the soft sheets rather than face the day.  
  
Luke frowns, puts the coffee on the bedside table right next to Tom's head with a _PLOCK! --_ netting a "mrrrrph" from Tom -- then stalks over to the window and pulls open the shade to illuminate the room with sunshine.

"UP!"

Tom gripes into his pillow, "... loud... nooooo...."

"Up up up. Prove the woman wrong, Tom. If you care so much what she thinks, prove her wrong… But – shower first.” 


End file.
